Dennis Wheatley - Vendetta in Spain

In Spanish, the Duke asked him, 'How do you come to be in Yalta?'

Benigno did not reply, but again let his chin fall on his chest. The two policemen who were holding his arms gave him a violent shake and one of them kicked him on the ankle. With a word de Richleau checked them and said to the Inspector:

'You were right. I know this man and I wish to talk to him in private. But it is past three o'clock; so I want to get back to my hotel and to bed. What time will he be brought before the magistrate in the morning?'

'Ten o'clock, Your Excellency.'

'Very well, then.' De Richleau stood up. 'I will be here at half past nine.' Taking from his pocket the twenty rouble piece that he had intended to leave in Benigno's hand before he knew his identity, he gave it to the policeman who had made the arrest, congratulating him on his alertness; then he said good night to the Inspector and left the Station.

On the short walk to his hotel he ruminated on the surprising encounter with a Spanish anarchist in Russia; but, realizing that speculation was futile and that he would learn more about it in a few hours' time, he dismissed the matter from his thoughts. However, it had recalled to him many memories of the months he had spent in Spain and, while he was undressing, a series of pictures flickered through his mind: Angela lying dead, Gerault exposing him as a spy in the Escuela Moderna , La Torcera spitting in his face, and the back of Sanchez's head falling limp when his neck was broken - but the most vivid of all was the unforgettable beauty of Gulia de Cordoba when, that last night in San Sebastian, she had walked round the foot of his bed and thrown off her dressing-gown.

It was a long time since he had thought of her and he wondered whether she had become resigned to her position as a neglected wife, or if she had taken a lover. He hoped that she had, for otherwise it seemed certain that she would become embittered and old before her time from having been robbed by convention during the best years of her life of that joy to which every human being was entitled. He felt, too, that for her not to have done so would be a sinful waste, since she had so much to offer and could have brought a period of great happiness to at least one man, and perhaps several.

Not for the first time he cursed his luck that she should have been the wife of a close friend, and that on that account he had felt compelled to deny her and himself the consummation of their mutual passion. Had she been only the wife of an acquaintance for whom he had no affection or respect, he would at least have had the glowing memory of a night in her arms before he had set off after Sanchez; or, had he had no scruples about her husband, they might even have decided to let Sanchez do his damnedest and, had exposure of their affaire resulted, gone off together.

As things had turned out, Sanchez's photograph having been ruined, he could not, after all, have attempted to blackmail them, and it was by going after him that de Richleau had got himself shanghaied to South America. Still thinking of the scurvy trick Fate had played him, and of what he had missed to keep face with himself, he drifted off to sleep.

At nine-thirty punctually he arrived at the Police Station. The Inspector was still on duty and made no difficulty about having Benigno brought from his cell to a bare little office room so that the Duke could interview him privately.

As soon as the guards withdrew, they seated themselves on either side of a small table and de Richleau said, 'Now, Ferrer, you will be good enough to tell me what you are doing in Yalta?'

Benigno shook his head. 'It is useless to question me. I have been caught, and that is that. But I shall say nothing.'

'In that case,' replied the Duke, 'you will be acting like a fool. And you certainly are not one. I well remember that during our association in Barcelona I came to the conclusion that you had a much better balanced mind than most of your colleagues. Listen carefully now to what I have to say. I am regarded here as a person of considerable importance. That is why I am allowed to see you alone like this. Shortly you will be put into the dock and charged. Upon whether or not you answer my questions your life now hangs. To see you executed would give me considerable pleasure. But it so happens that one of my besetting sins is curiosity. If you are prepared to give me what I feel that I can accept as a reasonably truthful account of yourself I shall simply state in court that I knew you in Spain as a dangerous political, and that you attacked me because you had an old grudge against me. That will result in you being treated as all political criminals are in Russia these days, and exiled to Siberia. On the other hand, if you refuse to talk I shall state that I knew you to be involved in the bomb plot aimed at killing S.M. el Rey y la Reina on their wedding day. That may not be strictly true, but no matter. In your present circumstances, my word will be accepted and under the emergency laws against terrorists which are in force here they will take you away and have you shot. Now, which is it to be?'

'You fiend!' Benigno whispered, lifting his red-rimmed eyes to the Duke's. 'You fiend!'

De Richleau gave a grim little laugh. 'On the contrary, you should look on me as an angel. Not many men whose wife you had helped to murder would forgo this chance to see you dead.'

'I had no hand in that. It is you who are a murderer. You murdered my poor brother.'

'Poor brother indeed!' The Duke's 'devil's' eyebrows shot up. 'That filthy blackmailing young swine! He got off too easily with the quick death that my situation compelled me to give him. But that is beside the point. In twenty minutes you will be taken into court. The life line I have thrown you is running out as we sit here. You had better snatch at it unless you wish to die.'

For a long minute Benigno wrung his thin hands in silence, then he burst out, 'You're right! Even Siberia would be better than a firing squad. What do you wish to know?'

'Why did you come to Russia?'

'To kill you.'

Again de Richleau's eyebrows lifted. 'You astound me. Since you felt the urge to kill I should have thought there were plenty of people in Spain whom you count your enemies and wish dead. What in the world induced you to undertake such a long and expensive journey and choose as your intended victim a man that for years you had not even seen?'

Benigno's eyes suddenly blazed with hate. 'It was you who killed Sanchez. According to your standards he may have had no morals; but he lived as he wished to live and that is how an anarchist should live. I didn't approve of all his actions but he had the right to do as he liked, and I loved him. I loved him more than anything in the world.'

'Then I am sorry for you,' said the Duke, and there was no trace of sarcasm in his tone. 'Love goes a long way to excusing most things. But tell me; how did you discover my whereabouts?'

'My father keeps a book in which he writes a brief account of all anarchist triumphs, wherever they may occur. He told me that your father had been killed in the attempt on General Count Plackoff last February. We felt sure that would bring you back to Europe, and we have correspondents in most of the big cities, so we asked for some of those in the ports to keep a look-out for you. Your arrival in Hamburg was reported to us, then that you were in Vienna and said to be on your way to claim your estate on the far side of the Carpathians. I would have gone there at once, but I didn't know a word of Russian; and having been told that in this vile country the police don't even need a warrant to seize on anyone, I didn't dare risk being picked up and questioned by them until I could speak enough Russian to pass myself off as a Spanish commercial traveller. For six weeks I swotted at your filthy language with a towel round my head; then I travelled to Jvanets. But I missed you by two days. I learned that you had gone down to Odessa, and there that you had gone on to Yalta. I followed you and for over a week I have been hoping for a chance to kill you; but until last night you have always been with other people or driving in a carriage.'